


The Phantom

by flippyspoon



Series: Brightonverse [7]
Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-15
Updated: 2014-11-15
Packaged: 2018-02-25 10:38:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2618774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flippyspoon/pseuds/flippyspoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thomas doesn't like the Lon Chaney picture.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Phantom

**Brighton  1925**

Thomas and Jimmy had happily managed to get into a bit of a rut. To them it was a rut anyhow. For anyone else it was a rather exciting life; working in a club where every night was a party and days off were often spent at the beach. After that there were the flicks, of which Jimmy was a great fan. But when they were tired they lazed about the flat, doing nothing in particular except listening to the gramophone and eventually tearing each other’s clothes off.  
On a Monday afternoon Jimmy sat cozy in the corner of the green chaise with his legs in Thomas’s lap. A George Olsen record played as Jimmy jiggled his foot to the music while he skimmed a magazine and Thomas absentmindedly massaged Jimmy’s thigh as he read his paper.  
“I’m bored,” Jimmy muttered.  
“You’re always bored,” Thomas said.  
“Absolutely untrue,” Jimmy argued and he raised his leg to gently massage Thomas’s crotch with his toes.  
“Ah…” Thomas put his paper aside and went about rolling up Jimmy’s trouser leg to kiss his calf. “Well, nearly always.”  
“Let’s go to the flicks tonight, yeah?” Jimmy leaned forward, tossing his magazine to the floor and played with Thomas’s hair. He pressed his foot more firmly.  
“Mmm…think you’ve got me wrapped around your finger, do ya?” Thomas said.  
“I know I do,” Jimmy said haughtily.  
Thomas smirked.   
Jimmy liked to pretend that he could make Thomas do whatever he wanted, but it was just talk. It was all quite the opposite. It had taken Thomas a while to realize how hard Jimmy took it if he thought he was displeasing Thomas. Once he’d given Jimmy a severe lecture for getting a few drinks wrong and ignoring less charming guests while bartending as at The Moon Cat. Jimmy had bowed his head and seemed cowed at the time. But he’d returned to Thomas’s office later near tears. It was easy to forget Jimmy’s insecurities when they were so comfortable.  
“I’m very sorry,” Jimmy had said, twisting his hands. “I know I’m only here because you got me the job anyhow. I want to do a good job for you. I-I’d hate to think I disappointed you. I just got caught up in the fun of it, I  _won’t_  do it again, I won’t-”  
By then Thomas had risen and crossed to Jimmy to rub his shoulder and caress his cheek. “It’s alright. I didn’t mean to… It was one night and we were so busy. It’s no great catastrophe.”  
Jimmy had nodded brusquely. “I just…I  _hate_  it when you’re truly angry with me.”  
“I’m sorry I shouted,” Thomas said, and kissed him. “You’re not disappointing me at all. You’ve done so well. It was one night. And I get caught up too. In runnin’ everything, I mean. Else I wouldn’t have been so horrid. I’m not angry.”  
“Right,” Jimmy said. But he was still frowning and looked so much like a frightened boy that Thomas wrapped him in a hug.   
“Oh, love…” Thomas had said, chuckling.  
Now Thomas rose an eyebrow, peeking around Jimmy’s leg as he bit it softly. “Me wrapped around your finger? Last night you called me a god.”  
Jimmy flushed and ducked his head to kiss Thomas’s hair. “That was one time.”  
“I’m certain I was a god three times last night, but who’s counting?” Thomas said.  
“So the cinema then?” Jimmy reminded him. “ _The Phantom of the Opera_ ’s just come out. Lon Chaney.”  
“Certainly,” Thomas said and bit Jimmy’s knee. Jimmy kissed Thomas’s neck and nibbled on his ear. “But first…” He sat up to push Thomas down onto the chaise and untuck his shirt, pressing kisses to his belly. He pulled at Thomas’s trousers and dug his thumbs into the crevices between Thomas’s hips and his legs.  
“Wrapped around your little finger,” Thomas said, sighing.  
“That’s right,” Jimmy murmured, taking his time to kiss the trail of hair to Thomas’s prick. “I’ve got your number.”   
“You’ve got bollocks,” Thomas said.   
Shortly thereafter he was unable to form words.

  
Jimmy loved films. Each year his love of the cinema grew stronger, as each year pictures seemed to get more exciting. It was hard though when they went to the cinema, not to continually glance over at Thomas to see if his reactions were the same as his. This wasn’t bad- unless he did it too often because the film was very good. Then Thomas would roll his eyes and tell him to watch the screen instead of him. When the film wasn’t very good and Thomas seemed bored, Jimmy would whisper filth in his ears and if Thomas was in the right mood and there was no one sitting near them, he would let his hand rest temptingly between Jimmy’s knees and pretend to whisper something as an excuse to kiss him under his ear.  
Jimmy was rather enjoying  _The Phantom of the Opera_. It had a good story and it was foreboding and creepy. Best of all the villain of the film didn’t appear to be very villainous. He was tragic. It was also a beautiful looking picture and little bits like the play of the dancers’ shadows on a stone wall gave Jimmy a sense of awe. Yet when he snuck surreptitious glances, Thomas looked less than enchanted. In fact, he looked…queasy. It was a creepy story after all; a shadow speaking to an opera singer.   
“Are you alright?” Jimmy whispered.  
“Yeah, fine,” Thomas whispered. But his expression disagreed with him.  
“Are you scared?” Jimmy hissed.  
“No!” Thomas said in far too loud a whisper.  
Somebody two rows back shushed them.  
Jimmy wasn’t sure if Thomas was lying or not, but he didn’t note any further reactions except when the Phantom said that Christine’s love would redeem him and Thomas said, “Pffft!”  
Of course, things did not end well for the Phantom. Jimmy could have guessed as much. When it was over Jimmy had the feeling he always had after a compelling movie, and he was in a daze as he walked out onto the sidewalk with Thomas.  
“Blimey, that was something, wasn’t it?” Jimmy said, stretching.  
Thomas had stopped just behind him to light a cigarette, and he shrugged. “I suppose.”  
“Oh, I knew you didn’t like it!” Jimmy said, elbowing him in the side as he smoked. “Why not? They can’t all be Buster Keaton, you know.”  
Thomas seemed to like comedic films best, which Jimmy found utterly fascinating since he was so outwardly reserved.  
“No, it was fine,” Thomas muttered, and strolled on. But he quickly changed the subject, instead speaking of a certain Margaret Miller; the favorite new ingenue of Moon Cat patrons. She danced burlesque on their stage, but Thomas had noticed that she seemed to enjoy the attention of Felix Schiller’s sister, Lara, more than that of any man. This was rather unfortunate since, as far as Thomas and Jimmy knew, Lara only liked men. Thomas admitted he felt sorry for Margaret, as he knew the pain of unrequited love and Margaret was one of the better ones. Of course Thomas would think so, Jimmy thought. Margaret had worked in a factory before becoming a burlesque dancer, and Thomas always favored the working class sorts when they found their way to the Moon Cat.  
“You feel so sorry for her, why don’t you find her a nice girl?” Jimmy said, as they came to the flat.  
“Who do I like to you?” Thomas said. “The Barber of Seville?”  
“There’s always the Miss Collins’s,” Jimmy said, laughing once they were safely inside.   
“Somehow I imagine our landlady would frown on one of her nieces ending up with a lady burlesque dancer,” Thomas said with a snort.  
Jimmy thought all was well until later as he rambled on about  _The Phantom of the Opera_ , he saw Thomas only glaring down at the slice of Victoria Sponge he was supposed to be eating.  
“Whatsamatter?” Jimmy said around a mouthful of cake.  
“I hated it!” Thomas declared.  
Jimmy swallowed and said, “I knew you didn’t like it!”  
“No, I didn’t,” Thomas said. “I didn’t like it at all, as a matter of fact.”  
“Why not? It was so good!”  
“He shouldn’t have hid down in that bloody dungeon.” Now Thomas was using his quietly fierce voice, that he used for things about which he was particularly passionate. Jimmy loved that tone- sometimes it made him break out into a sweat.   
“But he was callin’ all the shots for a while,” Jimmy argued. “Even though everyone was afraid of him. He was like a…uh…puppeteer! In the shadows!”  
“But he shouldn’t have been in the shadows in the first place,” Thomas argued. “What, just because his face was a disaster? He ought to have come right out and used their fear of him against them. And then the way he demanded that Christine ought to love him and makin’ her a star and that and she never did, it was pathetic. If I were him-”  
“You’re not the Phantom!” Jimmy had risen to his feet and now he pounded his fist on the table, upsetting the dishes.  
Thomas jerked in his seat. “I know that, I didn’t say that-”  
“No, but you’re thinkin’ it! I can see ya doin’ it right now!” Jimmy pointed at him, pursing his lips. You’re acting as if it were you in the picture and you loused it up, it’s rubbish. Your life isn’t tragic, stupid. And I’m not Christine!”  
“I know.” But Thomas was quiet.  
They were silent as Jimmy thought over Thomas and Lon Chaney and ate his cake. “Do you ever get angry because you’ve got no one to fight anymore?”  
Thomas looked up sharply and his mouth opened and closed a couple of times. “Er…”  
“No Carson,” Jimmy pointed out. “No Crawleys even. No Bates. No heartbreak…”  
Thomas seemed very thoughtful and finally he said, “I was awfully used to it.”  
“Well, if it makes you feel any better a couple clubs have got raided in London so you might be fighting the police sometime soon.” Jimmy smiled wryly and held up his teacup as if to drink a toast.  
“ _Have_  they?” Thomas’s mouth became a tight line and he spread his hands on the table. “Well…bloody cocks. Let them come. We’ll have a party for the occasion. Get all the blokes in dresses. Not me, of course.”  
“There’s the old Oxford spirit,” Jimmy said.  
“That…really shouldn’t make me feel better,” Thomas said, frowning.  
Jimmy patted his hand. “Don’t think on it too much. But stay riled up. It’ll be useful later.”


End file.
